The Last Virgin of Degrassi
by Oneiromancer
Summary: There's a virgin at Degrassi! Is this possible! Who is this guy and can he maintain his virginity while being chased by the nymphomaniac girls of Degrassi? Rated T for sexual content. Nothing graphic, though.
1. Chapter 1: Virginity!

I don't own Degrassi or any of its characters. And this story is rated T for sexual references. There's nothing graphic or anything contained inside, just a few little things that you'd probably see on the TV show itself. But if that kind of thing bothers you, turn away!

The Last Virgin of Degrassi

One

It was a beautiful Wednesday morn. The grass was green, the waters blue. Charming birds of different varieties flew gracefully on soft Canadian winds. It was a day blessed by Heaven itself. But for the students of Degrassi, it was just another tedious day in the school weak. Another day of listening as boring teachers delivered boring lectures. It was always the same, day in and day out. Why couldn't there be more excitement? Granted, every now and then there would be a shooting, or a gonorrhea outbreak or some such thing, but for the most part, life at Degrassi was brain-numbingly BO-ring.

Amid the throng of students making their way toward school, two stood out from all the rest. Lifelong friends, Emma Nelson and Manny Santos. They strode through the parking lot with frowns on their faces. Manny made conversation while Emma pretended to listen.

"So I told her. I was like, 'Did you hook up with Craig that one time?' And she was all like 'So what if I did?' And I go 'SLUT!' And she was like-"

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. She needed to get new friends. Fast. All Manny ever wanted to do was talk about Craig. Craig, Craig, Craig. Every day. And it didn't help matters that he was going to be back in Toronto next week promoting his new album. Of course he and Manny would hook up again. That's how it worked, you see. She would date Craig, get pregnant with his love-child, have an abortion, and then break up with him in a tearful scene. Then she'd date some other guy and then cheat on that guy with Craig and then they'd get back together again and she'd get pregnant, have an abortion…. Well, it was a never-ending cycle.

The problem, Emma supposed, was that everyone had _had_ everyone else at Degrassi. It was a little like the royal families of Europe in a way. The royals were forced to intermarry with family because the number of monarchs in the rest of the world had been dwindling. Similarly, the students at Degrassi had all had sex with each other at least _once_, so it was only a matter of time before the circle would be forced to repeat.

It was sad.

Emma pushed these unhappy thoughts from her mind as she made her way to the entry doors of the school. She grasped the handle and pushed. As she entered the common's area, she held the door open for Manny.

She stood there, with one hand holding the door open for about a full minute. When it became clear that Manny wasn't behind her, Emma turned around to see her friend still outside in the parking lot with a quizzical expression on her face.

"Manny?" Emma asked, a trace of concern was apparent in her voice. "What's the matter? What's-"

"Shh!" Manny hissed. She closed her eyes dreamily and opened her mouth. Her lips trembled. She seemed to be sniffing the air. "That fragrance…." Her voice broke off as she entered into a near-swoon state. "Oh! That scent! Emma, can you smell it? Can you?"

Frowning slightly, Emma lifted her head and took a big whiff of the air around her. At first, she could detect nothing. There was the stench of the broken sewage line that ran into the boy's bathroom, of course. And there were the fumes of exhaust from the buses that rumbled past. Pure carbon monoxide. And that was it. She was about to tell Manny that she couldn't smell anything unusual, but then it hit her.

It was faint, barely there at all. The scent of lilacs, mixed with vanilla cookies carried on a crisp ocean breeze. It was soothing beyond belief. Calming. Relaxing. And as soon as it tickled its way across her nose, Emma knew what it was. It was a fragrance she hadn't smelled in a long time. And it was strange that she would smell it here, at Degrassi of all places.

"It … it can't be," Emma whispered. "That's impossible!"

A small smile broke out on Manny's face. "It is. You can't deny that scent." The smile grew into a ravenous grin. "The scent of a virgin."

…

Heart thumping, forehead sweating, Dustin Morningale adjusted his book-bag on his shoulder and tried to find the Principal's office. An errant lock of shaggy light brown hair tumbled in front of his eyes and he pushed it away with a shaky sigh.

He was so nervous. And why was that? Could it be the fact that he was the new kid at school? Or could he be that he was the new kid in Canada? It was probably a combination of the two factors. And as he walked the unfamiliar halls of Degrassi, he began to wish he'd never been born. It was his parent's fault, he decided. It was their fault for moving him to a whole other country and making him leave his friends behind. And what for? Money? New job opportunities? In either case, it was a poor excuse for tearing your 17-year-old son from everything he'd ever loved.

Shaking his head sadly, Dustin finally spotted the door to the school's office. It was closed, so he knocked quietly.

"Come in already!" Exclaimed a cranky-sounding voice from the other side.

Dustin swallowed with a loud click and opened the door. The office area he found himself in was huge. One entire wall was nothing but windows and a long wooden desk ran the length of the room. But the first thing he noticed about the area were the students. They were lined up against the desk, textbooks in hand. And they all looked like movie stars. The girls' hair fell down to their shoulders in cascading ringlets and their makeup had been expertly applied. They wore short, fashionably torn miniskirts that hugged their narrow hips. Expensive golden jewelry glittered from ears and fingers. And the guys stood around with their hands thrust into their designer jeans, their faces ruff and ready to rumble.

It was as if he had stepped onto the set of _The OC_ or something.

"Can I help you?" Asked a frowning blonde-haired woman from behind the desk.

Feeling a bit out of place in his plain old jeans and simple white t-shirt, Dustin broke ahead of 50 other students and made his way to the front desk. "Hi," he said to the blonde woman. "Um, this is my first day here. I'm, uh, I guess I need to get my papers and stuff together."

The woman's frown grew deeper. "Great," she mumbled. She reached down and pulled a pink form from a cabinet. "Name?"

"Dustin Morningale."

_Scratch, scratch, scratch_ went the pencil across the paper. The woman had written in "Dustin Morni" when the pencil stopped moving. She looked up hurriedly. Her body went rigid. She seemed to sniff the air.

"Young man…." Her voice was faint and tinged with moisture.

"Yes, ma'am?" Dustin asked.

The woman said nothing for the longest time. She just stood there with her nose in the air, oblivious to everything. After a time, she shivered violently and turned her attention back to Dustin. When next she spoke, her voice had taken on a completely different tone from before. Gone was the irritated growl. It had been replaced by a deep and throaty whisper.

"And what," she asked, "Did you say your name was again, young man?"

"Dustin Morningale."

"Ah yes. I remember. Such a nice name."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"It's a masculine name. Almost erotic-sounding."

"Um. Thanks. I … guess."

"Sex?"

Dustin blinked. "E-Excuse me?"

The woman smiled, red lips parting, revealing perfect white teeth. "I need to know your gender young man."

"Male," Dustin answered. _Well, duh_, he thought. He was starting to feel uneasy.

"Can you prove it?"

Dustin batted his eyes. His mouth opened involuntarily. From deep within his chest, his heart began to hammer against the ribcage. "W-what?"

"Just joking." The woman sighed and tossed her head, sending beautiful gold locks bouncing into the air. "Perhaps we better discuss your transfer to Degrassi in private. In my office. I'm Ms. Hatzilakos, by the way. The Principle."

She went around the desk and motioned for Dustin to follow. He did, and was led into a darkened office. Once inside, Ms. Hatzilakos removed the jacket of her suit with a series of seductive sighs and grunts. Then she sat down behind her desk, all the while keeping her eyes glued to the young male student who stood before her.

"Have a seat," she said.

"Thanks," Dustin replied as he sat down heavily on tan overstuffed armchair. He looked about the room, but it was hard to see anything. The lights were off and the blinds had been pulled over the windows. Everything was bathed in blackness, except for the Principle's stark-white teeth and sparking gold eyes.

"Welcome to Degrassi."

"Thank you ma'am. I appreciate it."

"I hope you make a lot of new friends."

"I hope so too."

"Scared?" Ms. Hatzilakos asked.

Dustin frowned and shifted in his seat. "Uh. No, ma'am. Not really."

Laugher. "You should be. Oh, young man, you really should be."

There was a long drawn-out silence as she obtained a cigarette from one of the desk's drawers. She lit it and her face was instantly bathed in an eerie red light. Hellfire. "Don't worry about your transcripts, Mr. Morningale. I'll see to it that everything turns out alright for you." She put the cigarette to her lips and sucked in tar and nicotine. "You may leave now."

Dustin didn't need to be told twice. He shoot up from the chair and fled. The last thing she saw was Ms. Hatzilakos blowing out a circle of smoke from her mouth.


	2. Chapter 2: Manny's Secret Seduction

Two

The first class of the day for Manny was something called "Human Cultures" and it met in a tiny room at the end of one of Degrassi's many halls. She was in it with Emma, and the two girls slid into adjoining seats in the back of the room just as the tardy bell rang.

The teacher, a recently hired Mr. Izukus, began to take roll. When he got to Manny's name, he had to repeat it three times before she responded.

"What's your problem?" Asked Emma once the teacher had moved on.

Manny shook her head. It was the virgin. That was the problem. Imagine! A virgin wondering the Degrassi halls! The very idea was ludicrous. If couldn't be possible. Degrassi was a passion-pit. Teen pregnancies, abortions, and STD's were an everyday occurrence. So how-

Noise near the front of the room. Many looked up, more out of habit than curiosity, and froze. Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes bugged out to twice their normal size. There, talking to Mr. Izukus, was the most attractive creature she had ever laid eyes on.

He was devastatingly handsome. He was tall, but not freakishly so. His face seemed to have been chiseled from stone. His jaw was square, his cheekbones perfect. Gorgeous green eyes glittered from behind a wall of perfect light-brown bangs.

Manny rested her chin upon her hands as she took in the wondrous sight before her. Craig was a memory now.

"Class," Mr. Izukus said, "This is Dustin." He gestured to the god that stood next to him. "He's new here. Please make him feel welcome."

_Oh, you bet_, Manny thought. In her mind's eye, she pictured herself and Dustin contorting together on a bearskin rug. Welcome to Degrassi, Dustin. Mind if I take your underwear? Heh heh heh.

"Please find a seat," Mr. Izukus said.

"Thanks," the boy said. His voice was deep and rather soft. He scanned the crowded classroom and decided upon an empty seat next to a window.

The fantasy inside Manny's mind ended with the new kid giving her a round of applause for a job well done. Oh, it was going to be a great year with him in her class! New kid, new meat to sample. Manny looked forward to it. She'd already done the entire male student body. She smiled as she strained to get a better look at the kid. She wanted to see his hands. Because you know what they say, big hands, big-

Then it hit her. It struck her full in the face with the impact of a sledgehammer. That smell again. The scent of virginity. Could it be… She shook her head. No. No way was it coming from _him_! He was way too hot to be a virgin! But the smell was defiantly coming from his direction and as she looked about the room, she noticed that several girls in the class had risen up their heads to sniff the air in puzzlement.

No! The others had picked up the scent! If the smell _was_ the fragrance of Dustin's virginity, which she couldn't believe, she had to seize him before anybody else did!

Through sheer luck, there was an empty seat next to Dustin's.

Manny leapt from her chair as if firecrackers had been lit from under her butt. She tugged the waistband of her jeans down to expose her blue rhinestone thong and gathered up all of her books. In one graceful swoop, she went from Emma's side to Dustin's.

"Hi," she breathed.

Dustin turned to face her. She felt his eyes as they explored her body, moving up from her Calvin Klein jeans, to her perfect thighs. They lingered at her thong for a while until they jolted upwards. "Hi," he said. A sot rosy color was beginning to blossom on his cheeks.

"Hi yourself," Manny cooed. Now she was sure. Beyond a doubt. This guy was a virgin. And that made it all the more tempting. She must have him!

Dustin smiled awkwardly. "Um. I don't want to embarrass you or anything," he said. "But..."

Manny leaned forward, pressing her breasts against the side of the chair in the process. "Yes? Do you want to say something?"

"Your underwear is showing."

Manny frowned. There was something about the way he had said it. It was almost like … he had been disgusted. Nah. That couldn't be. She was a hot mama. A spicy Latina piece of hot ready-to-bake - Well, she was highly sought after in the Degrassi sexual arena.

She decided to play it cool.

"So it is," she said as she fiddled with the thin blue strap of the tong. "So it is."

Dustin said nothing but did give a little smile, which Manny considered a good sign.

"So you're a new kid? Where'd you move here from?"

At this, Dustin seemed more interested. "Oh! The United States."

Silence from Manny's end.

"Nebraska."

Manny licked her lips.

"We, uh. We lived on a farm. My parents and I, I mean."

Manny leaned back in her chair and smiled. "_Real_-ly? That's interesting. So you can," she undid one of the buttons on her blouse. "Milk things?"

Those green eyes of his flew away from her face and began to examine a world map that had been taped up in the corner of the room. "Yeah," he stuttered. "Like cows and stuff. I guess… I dunno."

His face grew pink. He lifted one shaking hand up in the air and began to message the back of his neck. As he did this, the sleeve of his t-shirt slid down to reveal a puff of sandy-colored underarm hair.

Manny was about ten seconds away from wetting her pants.

_Now_, her mind screamed. _Take him! Do it right there on the desk if you have to, but do it! TAKE THE VIRGIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

But just then, the classroom door swung open and a nice little old lady entered.

"Curses!" Manny spat.

Mr. Izukus smiled and stood to one side of the elderly visitor. "Class, you're in for a treat. Dr. Sally is going to have a nice little talk with you today!"

Dr. Sally nodded. "Yes. What better way to kick of Degrassi Sex Week than with a nice little heart-to-heart about the subject?" She smiled sweetly. The smile of a kindly grandmother. Then she reached behind her back and pulled out plastic models of a naked man and woman, seemingly out of thin air. She then put both hands into her pant's pockets and withdrew a series of pornographic photos, which she passed around the room.

"Hello, boys and girls," Dr. Sally exclaimed once everything was in order. "My name is Dr. Sally and I'm head of the Teen Sex Department at Degrassi Community School. Now before we begin, I'm going to pass around little slips of paper. You'll each have a word. I want each of you to give a definition of the word and use it in a sentence."

Meanwhile, the porno pictures were handed to Manny, who just barely glanced at them. They were the same ones from last year. Nothing new there. She gave them to Dustin, who quickly passed them to the boy behind him without taking so much as a peep.

"What _is_ this?" He asked later, as the paper slips were going around.

"Well, let's see. What's your word?" Manny said as she leaned over his desk. She grinned. "You don't know that word? It's a part of the female reproductive system. See, it's located-"

Dustin put up his hands defensively. "No, no, no. I know what _that_ is. I mean, what is this class all about anyway?"

"Oh. Well, it's Human Cultures, but since Sex Week is going on, we're having a little Family Life discussion instead." Smile, smile. Grin, grin. "You have Family Fife in the U.S., don't you?"

"Well, yeah. But not like this. This is weird."

"How so?"

"Well, the fact that your school has its own Sex Department. What is that, anyway?"

Manny laughed as she began to define her own word. "You really _are_ new to Degrassi, aren't you?"

The minutes ticked on from there. The room fell into a hush as students gave the assignment at hand their undivided attention. After a while, Dr. Sally clapped her hands together and announced that time was up. "Let's begin, shall we?" She scanned the room. "We'll start with the young man by the window."

The eyes of the entire class settled on Dustin, who blinked rapidly. "Me?"

"Yes, young man. What was your word?"

Squirming like a fly stuck on wax paper, Dustin swallowed. There was an audible click. "My word was…. Uh. It's… Well…" He coughed and ran a hand through his hair.

Up near the front of the room, Dr. Sally was losing patience. "Your word. Don't hold up the class!"

The edge of Manny's lips curved up into a smirk. She leaned over Dustin's shoulder to get a look at the word written upon his paper. "Vagina," she said loudly.

Dustin whirled around to gape at her.

"Is that your word?" Asked the head of the Sex Department crankily.

He nodded.

"What's the matter? Are you embarrassed or something?"

He nodded.

Dr. Sally sighed and put her hands on her hips. "How old are you, young man? Sixteen? Seventeen? You're too old to be embarrassed about sex. The word 'vagina' is just a word. It's a part of the female reproductive system. Nothing more, nothing less." She frowned severely. "Kids these days… Honestly!"

The next few minutes went by quickly as students shared their words with the class and used it in a sentence. With an hour and ten minutes left in the class, Dr. Sally nodded and moved close to the two plastic nude human models. "With the remainder of the class period, I'd like to have an in-depth discussion about orgasms – the most pleasurable, of course, being the g-spot orgasm-"

…

Manny caught up with Dustin once class was over. "Hey, she said, bumping into him playfully. "What's up?"

He shrugged, looking down at the floor. His face was a bright tomato red. Manny didn't understand this. Was it because of the family life class? That was hard to believe. It hadn't bothered her. But of course she was worldly and sophisticated and beautiful and smart and gorgeous and not a bad singer and-

She shook her head. If he was acting this embarrassed now, she couldn't wait to see how he'd react once they were assigned sex positions to demonstrate for the class. But that wasn't of any concern now. What mattered now was bedding the virgin.

It would be easy. She had a plan.

No man could resist her.

"Hey, Dusty?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it must be weird and scary being the new kid at school."

He nodded, his eyes upon the floor.

"Well," Manny continued, "I was thinking that maybe you could drop by my house later on tonight. We could hang out. Watch a movie."

Dustin smiled – the first real smile she'd seen from him yet. "Sure!" he exclaimed. "That sounds like fun! What movie?"

"Ever seen _Clown Academy Part 9,842_?"

"No."

"It's funny. I appreciate a movie that you don't have to use any brain cells to comprehend. They die off enough as it is, know what I mean?" Manny dropped her book-bag to the floor and withdrew a scrap piece of paper from one of its compartments. She wrote down her address and handed it to her new friend.

"See you there," she said.

…

She had to hurry! It was almost 8:00. He would be arriving any minute!

Manny sprinted across her parent's living room, madly rearranging furniture. It was a small miracle they were away for the night. For some reason, her parents frowned upon the idea of their daughter having wild unprotected sex with random men in the living room. They just didn't understand. Ma and Pa Santos were _so_ 1950's.

Once everything had been placed just so, Manny collapsed upon the leather sofa and let out a deep breath. Everything looked nice. The room was perfect. Seduction is an art, you see. A lost art. To get the blood flowing and the juices pumping, you had to have everything perfect. The arrangement of the furniture, the lighting, the music - Everything had to be placed together just right. It was kind of like Zen or Fung Shui or something.

But Manny wasn't overly concerned. She was the undistributed master of the art.

A knock at the door.

This was it! Manny quickly checked her reflection in a nearby mirror. She looked to die for, dressed in her tight little Degrassi Spirit Squad uniform and with her hair up in a messy ponytail.

Laughing manically to herself, she went to answer the door. But before she did that, she switched off the lights. Instantly, the room was bathed in darkness. The only illumination came from the small candles scattered around and the soft white moonlight that entered in from an open window.

Taking a deep breath, as to push her breasts forward, Manny flung open the door. Dustin was there. He looked positively divine.

"Hi, Manny," he greeted.

"Hello. Please enter."

Dustin smiled and stepped into the living room. He glanced around, his forehead knotting in confusion over something. "Did your power go out?"

Manny moved next to him. She could smell the deodorant he used. Axe body spray. The Phoenix kind. She knew it well.

"You do have power, right?" He asked. "I was looking forward to the movie."

"Relax," Manny said. "Everything's fine."

"Oh. But the candles-"

"It's just more magical this way."

Dustin smiled.

Manny pushed him down upon the sofa. There was a quiet hiss as air left the cushions. He fell backward. His head struck the arm of the sofa. "Ow! Geez!"

"Oops," Manny cooed. "I fell."

She took a seat next to Dustin of the sofa. The candlelight bathed his masculine face in shades of deep reds and oranges while the moon's rays struck the back of his head, giving him a halo. This was what a man was supposed to look like. A Grecian god.

Manny pretended to pick a piece of lint off his shirt. "I must say, you are undoubtedly _the_ most attractive male I have ever laid eyes on."

He moved his head suddenly, casting that gorgeous face of his back into the shadows. "Thanks. I guess."

Manny tittered. "You _guess_? You are. I should know. I have a keen eye. I've studied the male anatomy for years and you're the best specimen yet. You should be a model."

"Thanks. But I'm really a dork. I'm such a goofball, it isn't funny."

And a virgin. How convenient of him to leave that out. A virgin – but not for much longer. Manny decided to start up a little conversation before the show began. "You looked kind of nervous today in class when we were talking about sex. Why is that?"

A soft, barely-there laugh escaped Dustin's lips. "Yeah, I guess I was kinda nervous. Whew. I was sweating like a pig through the whole thing!"

"Mmm," Manny said.

"And I have to admit, half the time I didn't have a clue what that Dr. Sally person was talking about. I guess it's because I'm a virgin-"

Manny almost chocked on her own salvia. What was that? Had he actually _admitted_ it? This was most irregular. She had never met a male virgin before, but she'd read that those that were were very ashamed of the fact. After all, the whole point of high school for the human male was to find a hot chick and get laid. It was as simple as that. So it was unbelievable that this guy sitting next to her would actually tell her, _by his own will_, that he was a virgin – the most shameful thing a teenage guy could be.

Suddenly, Manny became afraid. This put things into a whole new light. Why had he admitted it? After a while, it became clear. He had told her so that she would know that he was ready to loose it. Of course. That was it. What an honor it would be for him to loose his virginity to the great Manny Santos – the human slinky. An honor for him and an experience for her.

"Well, don't worry, sweetie," Manny said as he patted her date gently on the stomach. It was hard. Not flabby in the least. He probably had a 12-pack under that shirt of his. "At Degrassi, even the biggest nerd can get some. Have you met Toby **Isaacs** yet? Well, he's a ha-UGE dork. Big glasses and all. And he was finally able to get laid last year. And if he can do it, you'll have no problem at all. Trust me, girls would cut off their right arms just to see you playing a heated game of shirts verses skins."

Dustin shifted his weight. He didn't reply.

Oh, well. It was now or never.

"Would you excuse me, please? I'm going to slip into something more comfortable." Manny stood up from the couch and headed down the hall toward her bedroom. Once inside, she quickly stripped off her cheerleader outfit. She stood in the middle of her room, clad only in a pair of black lace panties. She then ransacked her closet until she found what she was looking for: A wispy, semi-transparent negligee. She slipped it over her head and looked in the mirror.

She was a sex goddess. Her black hair framed her face in loose curls. Her skin was deeply tanned. Her eyes bespoke of dewy mornings. She was ready.

"Time to screw."

She padded down the hallway in bare feet and was surprised to find that she was nervous. That was odd. She'd never been nervous going into sex before. It was the virgin. She had never been with one before. And the more she thought about it, the more excited she became. It was going to be hard for poor Dustin after she'd taken it. You never forget the first time. And Manny Santos was top-of-the-line. It was going to be impossible for any girl after to even come close. Nobody would top her. Dustin would remember this night for the rest of his life.

She entered the living room and saw him. He was still sitting on the sofa. He hadn't seen her yet.

Seventeen years of repressed un-touched sexual energy. The house would probably explode in the middle of it.

Manny positioned herself. She framed her body against the hall's entry, making sure that the hem of her negligee rode up just enough so he could catch a glimpse of her panties.

"Mama's home," she whispered.

Dustin raised his head, unaware. But when he caught sight of her, his eyes became saucers. His body went rigid. He was speechless. Not surprising. The sight of Manny Santos' perfect body was enough to put an ordinary man in a coma.

Like a ghost, Manny glided across the room and sat on his lap. Dustin's eyes flew this way and that, trying to look at anything other than the boobs that were pressed against his face.

"It's hot in here," she said. It wasn't, though. Actually, it was pretty warm in the house. The air outside was humid and sticky and it entered into the stuffy room via the open window. "Let's see what we can do to make it more relaxing."

With one swift movement, Manny grabbed a nearby remote control and pressed a button.

The fireplace across from the sofa suddenly ignited with a _WHOOSH_ of flames.

She pressed another button and Tom Jones' sultry deep voice could be heard coming from a CD player hidden somewhere in the room.

Manny straddled Dustin and ran her hands through his hair. So soft. So perfect. She could feel his heartbeat. It was a wonder he wasn't already dead of a heart attack from the way it was hammering.

"I-I-I-It sure i-i-i-i-is hot in here," he managed to mumble.

A bead of sweat fell into Manny's cleavage. "Why don't you take off your clothes?"

Dustin's mouth opened, but only a soft squeak came forth. His face was a mask of horror. "What a-a-a-a-a-about the m-m-m-m-movie?" He chocked at last.

Manny sighed sultrily. "It is rather warm. I think…" She reached her hands up to her chest and started to untie a ribbon that was there. Within seconds, the ribbon was loose and she lifted her negligee up over her head in one graceful movement. Once again dressed only in panties, she threw the expensive dressing gown into the fireplace, where it was immediately devoured by flames.

"That's better."

Dustin sat on the sofa, oblivious to everything. His mind had long since shut down. He was nothing more than a vegetable now.

Manny leaned forward and pressed her bare chest against his clothed one. A virgin. A virgin. "I've been waiting for this my whole life," she breathed.

And then her lips pressed against his. The moment the flesh connected, her mind exploded with images of purple lilacs swaying in the breeze and beaches and moonlight and unicorns prancing in the forest.

Yes! Yes! Come, sweet love! Oh come!

Hands suddenly went tight around her naked waist and she was pushed onto the floor. She landed upon the hard ground with such force that her hip popped. A few strands of hair became caught in the fireplace and she screamed as she tried to put out the fire that was now consuming her head.

Within seconds, the fire was out and Manny looked around. The sofa had been overturned and the door leading outside into the night was wide open. Chucks of plaster had fallen off the wall behind it where the doorknob had crashed against it as it was being slammed open. The room was empty. Not a thing stirred.

The virgin was gone.


	3. Chapter 3: Emma's Tactful Trysting

Three: Emma's Tactful Trysting

Being a patient girl by nature and a disciplined one by practice, Emma Nelson was able to keep her mind occupied that night by participating in a variety of intellectual and socially empowering activities. She spent the first portion of the evening soaking in a bubble bath re-reading Mary Wollstonecraft's _Vindication of the Rights of Women. _Then, her skin pruny and cold, and having read the book cover to cover, she emerged from the bathroom and commenced to watching taped episodes of the Lifetime channel's _Intimate Portrait._

But even the strongest women sometimes falter. Sometimes even the mightiest Amazonian warrior stumbles and drops her spear. And by the time the end credits rolled on the sixth episode of the night (which had chronicled the more noteworthy events in the life of Madeleine Albright), Emma could stand it no longer. Dustin's face had resurfaced like a big, attractive floatie with great hair in the midst of a turbulent sea and refused to go away.

Still, being the strong, independent women she knew she was, Emma tried to keep the vision at bay. First she utilized a series of deep breathing techniques. By placing a hand on the diaphragm and another on the throat, the practitioner then merely had to count to ten to suppress even the most intense anxiety moments. And she _was_ experiencing anxiety, oh yes oh yes. The very suggestion of Dustin's name inside her head had sent her body a'tinglin' like nothing else this side of a female Supreme Court Justice.

_One._

Deep breaths.

_Two._

Long breaths.

_Three._

Hard breaths.

_Four._

Pulsating breaths.

_…_

She never made it to five. Coming to life on the fifth exhale, she awoke with a start to find the top of her jeans unbuttoned and the hand that was supposed to be on her diaphragm far south of its intended position. The other, which had been keeping track of her pulse, had also wondered askew and was now massaging her chest as if in preparation for a breast exam.

Finding no help for it, she simply relaxed and allowed herself to finish what her hands had started. She did this without any hint of modesty and did not even bother to close her bedroom door. This being a Thursday, the house was empty (Thursdays, 8:00 pm – 3:00 am, were her mother's shift at the Satin Slipper, and Snake, her new husband, chose those evenings to met with his mistress; there was supposed to be a baby in the house, but as he hadn't made an appearance in days, the family merely assumed he had either crawled into an air shaft somewhere or had been kidnapped – no big loss either way) but even if it hadn't been, Emma wouldn't have bothered with such a thing as the closing of a door. Self-stimulation was perfectly normal, perfectly _healthy_, and it was Emma's opinion that if people were more open about it, there would be a lot less war in the world.

Her jeans slumped into a pile by her feet, Emma chided herself for not waiting and getting Mr. Humphries. Mr. Humphries was her mother's pet name for her vibrator, which she euphemistically referred to as her "electric red-hot robo-lover of doom." She kept it in the bathroom hamper, easily accessible in case her bald-headed buffoon of a husband couldn't get the job done.

Emma smiled. She and her mom had a pretty special relationship. How many other mothers would've been open enough to discuss such things as vibrators with their daughters? And how many other moms would've gone that extra step and actually demonstrated?

Yep. Pretty special.

Emma frowned.

The normal stuff wasn't working. Dustin's face still lingered – chiseled, lovely, and just out of reach.

Time to call in the big guns.

Without bothering to step into her pants, Emma bypassed Mr. Humphries and went about another option – one that involved peanut butter and the family dog. It took about ten minutes, and when it was over she gave the pooch a treat and resigned herself to the fact that nothing was going to work. Nothing except doing the deed with the boy in question.

What time was it?

A quick look at her bedside clock revealed it to be 2:12 am. Manny had said she was going to invite Dustin over to her place tonight. To "study". And if her word was to be believed, he had actually accepted her invitation.

Was he still there now?

Surely not. Manny was an expert in the sexual arena, but even _she_ couldn't make it last eight hours. Could she?

Surely not.

So, then, it was settled. Emma would go on over to Manny's and they would discuss how the study session went. And oh, Emma wanted to know it all. Size, weight, texture – she needed all the details if she was ever going to get some sleep this night. And Manny, being the kiss and tell type, would only be too happy to spill everything.

Manny. Emma liked her, liked her a lot, but when it got right down to it, the girl was a vapid, moronic slut-bag incapable of assessing her own self worth beyond the realm of the sexual.

All the same though, she needed to know. If she couldn't bang the boy herself, she at least needed to know what sex with Dustin had been like so that she could picture it for herself. Perhaps then her fingers could work magic.

Her mind set, Emma left her room, skipped down the stairs, and made her way to the front door of her house. She had just opened it and was in the process of locking it back behind her when she realized she had left her pants in her room and was about to step out onto the street wearing nothing but a pair of boyshorts and a "Save the Wetlands" tee.

_Oops, _she thought, locking the door and closing it. _Better luck next time. _

…

A funny thought occurred to her as she made her way toward the Santos abode: suppose ol' pez sprockets _was_ good for a few extra innings and she just happened to walk in on the two of them in the middle of it. Wouldn't that be _embarrassing_?

Why yes. Yes, it would be. And with any luck, she'd be invited in on the action.

The Santos house loomed ahead, as dark and silent as the three o'clock street itself. Even the trees were asleep, their foliage rustling above Emma like a noisy shroud.

As she moved closer, she noticed the lack of any sort of vehicle in the driveway. She guessed Dustin might've walked here, and not knowing the location of his house, she thought it at least probable but didn't want to get her hopes up lest she be bitterly disappointed.

Well, she'd soon find out. Having rung the doorbell, Emma waited patiently on the doorstep, savoring the brisk early morning air. It felt fresh against her skin, clean and clear, like the touch of a gentle lover.

Mmmm. Oooooh. It was starting again. Welling up inside her – that deep, womanly longing, satisfiable only by the intervention of a sensitive man or a vibrator the size of the Washington Monument.

Emma rang again, her finger a rigid ramrod pressing against a circle of plastic the size of a coin. From somewhere inside the house came the sound of hurried footsteps. A light was flicked on. The glass rectangular cut-outs in the door beamed yellow.

_Too late, _she wheezed. _Mmmm. Oooooh. I'm going to DO myself right here on the doorstep. I'm gonna DO me 'till I just can't DO me any longer!_

And that was when the front door flew open with such force it sent a tornado-like current of air blasting across Emma's face. Her blonde hair flew backward over her shoulders and her blue eyes squinted against the sudden sting. She gasped in both surprise and climax, and felt her body twitch in tandem.

"What _IS_ it?"

Emma blinked. Manny was standing there, one hand on the doorknob, one hand against the doorframe. Her eyes were wild and red, the eyes of a rabid beast, and her hair was a tangled nest of black yarn. Draped across her perfect, newly legal frame was a raggedy cheer squad practice tee – not exactly the sort of thing one would wear during a seduction attempt.

"Manny, what's wrong?"

Eyes blaring, teeth exposed in a vicious enamel snarl, Manny crossed her hands defiantly across her ample chest. "What's wrong is I was _trying_ to get some sleep!"

Emma popped a hip to the side. "Oh? With Dustin? Hmmmm?"

Manny's face grew tighter. Minute wrinkles appeared and spread across her normally Botox-smooth forehead. "You know what? That's really none of your business. Now if you'll excuse me-"

And with those seemingly final words, Manny sent her front door crashing forward with a flick of the wrist.

Stepping forward, Emma caught it as it slammed shut and invited herself in – and braced herself against the smell she found inside. It was faint, little more than a rosy whisper, but she immediately classified it as belonging to _him_. This was his scent. Dustin's scent. The unmistakable smell of unsatisfied sexual longing. Virginity. He'd been here. The question was: was he still?

Before investigating, Emma took time to savor the aroma. Eyes closed, she drew it through her nostrils in deep lungfuls. Lilac petals. Warm baked vanilla. Crisp cotton. Now this was virginity in all its splendor. The smell of it soothed her beyond imagining. It was dreamy, relaxing, and the more she took in, the more she wanted. Absently she wondered how it would feel having its very essence injected directly into her body. That was a foolish thing to ponder, of course. Manny had, in all probability, already deflowered Dustin. In all likelihood, she had decapitated the boy in the act and was now keeping his severed head as a token of her ultimate conquest.

A wave of hatred washed over her. It wasn't fair. Manny got all the guys. Got them all and got them first. Emma's entire history with her was one of coming in second place. Craig, Spinner, Peter, Jay, Sean, Jimmy, Toby, J.T., Rick, Chris, Damien, Sav, Danny, Floyd, Joe, Bob, Don, Dave, Kevin, Hunter, Jacob, Douglas, Richard, Wally, Harry, Norman, Roger, Lucas, Josh D., Josh M., Josh H., Jordan, Spencer, Travis, Drew, Stephen, Principal Raditch – these, and an assortment of others, had, at one time or another, been objects of Emma's intrigue but were now footnotes in the grand biography that was Manny Santos' sex life. And now Dustin. Where was she ever going to find another virgin to experiment with? Certainly not at Degrassi.

Curse that Manny. Curse her busty body and her skimpy wardrobe and the way she played dumb to lure men into bed. That was it, of course. Most men were intimidated by a woman with brains, and Emma had cerebrum in droves. They responded more readily to overt displays of eroticism, thus explaining why Manny got more than she did. Thinking of it in those terms made it a little better, but with the magic of Dustin's virginity spent, Emma honestly did not know if it would be worth it anymore.

"Emma?"

Well, he was still hot. Not just hot, but _hawt_ as other, less intelligent women often said. That might count for something.

"Emma?"

Yeah. Maybe it might work after all. Maybe there was some leftover residue of virgin left on him. One last squirt of –

"Emma!"

The girl in question blinked. "Hmm?"

"Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"I was just in the neighborhood."

"Where's your pants?"

Shrugging, Emma waltzed over toward the sofa and took a seat. "I must have left them behind." She fluffed a pillow. "So? How was it? I want details and I want them now."

But instead of gracing the question with a reply, Manny Santos pivoted on her heel and fled upstairs, face in hands. A second later, a door slammed shut, sounding like cannon fire. Then silence. No squeals, no shouts of ecstasy, nothing.

Back on the sofa, a smile was forming. Such a quick exit could only mean one thing – that for the first time in a long time (perhaps ever), Manny had come up sort. She had been denied and refused. She had, in sum and total, failed to score a hit. Which begged a new series of questions. Yet to pursue the topic further would be uncouth and would doubtless cause Manny to have to endure a great deal of embarrassment. And hadn't the poor dear suffered enough humiliation tonight?

Emma was upstairs in a flash.

Compared to the rest of the house, Manny's room was a study in chaos. Clothes littered every square inch of floor space and were piled atop every available surface. Hanging from the ceiling fan was a tasseled and sequined brassier, and caught up in the television's rabbit ears were the matching pair of panties. Candles, a Manny Santos staple of seduction, ran along the length of the bed's headboard. Most of these had long since melted into the wood itself with dripping stands of thick wax. The only space clear of clutter was the bookshelf by the door, which was kept pristine and neatly ordered with a virtual encyclopedia Britannica of spiral-bound notebooks. Contained within each were names, dates, and ratings based on a five star system – all chronicling the sex worth mentioning.

"You didn't even get a kiss?" Emma asked, her voice a careful reflection of disbelief.

A sharp glance from Manny answered the question.

How marvelously delicious this all was! And oh, she really shouldn't continue, but how she wanted to see Manny squirm. How she wanted to see her break.

"Honey, I know this has to be humiliating for you, so if you want to talk-"

Manny whirled around. "You know what? I don't even care. Really. Dustin's a jerk and he's not even all that hot. I don't care what he does or with who or whatever. He's a jerk."

Mmm-hmm. Now she was trying to backpedal.

Fighting to keep her face a mask of sympathy, Emma stepped forward and gently wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulders. "Come on, Manny, let's be serious here. A day ago, he was Adonis in a pair of Sketchers."

The other girl squirmed out of the embrace in a sudden thrashing of limbs. "I told you, I don't care! He can go to hell, for all I care! He-" Now came a sob. A runner of snot wriggled its way from her nose. "He ran out on me, Emma. I've never had that happen before. It's just … I feel so … so…"

"Cheap? Abused? Shamed beyond all measure?"

Manny sighed and gestured with her chin to the bookshelf and its rows of notebooks. "I even got a new one just for him. Narrow-ruled, 350 sheets. We could've filled every page."

Okay, the self-loathing was getting old, fast.

"Well, what did you expect?" Emma snapped. "You went about it all wrong. Virgins are like little baby birds. You've got to be patient and gentle. You've got to offer the seed but not force it. You can't just throw them on the couch and order them to unzip. That's way too much too fast."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this."

Emma nodded and plopped down on the bed amid the discarded fashions. Mattress springs yelped. "Takes one to know one, I suppose."

Up went an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" Manny inquired.

"Nothing. Just that it takes a virgin to know and understand another of its kind."

Manny's hands attached themselves to her hips. "_You're_ a virgin?"

"Well, yes."

"Since when?"

"Since always."

Up went the other eyebrow.

"Uh-huh. Somebody doesn't remember the great gonorrhea outbreak of '05."

"Oral sex isn't sex," Emma protested primly, crossing her arms.

"Oral _sex_ isn't sex?"

There was laughter underlying the question and Emma hated the sound of it. Manny, Manny, Manny – expert on love and war and everything else! Who was she to take this condescending tone? Dumb little floozy. Tart. Hussey. Wench. A plague on both your houses.

"What I can't understand is how he managed to resist my Mexican charm," Manny pondered aloud. She had turned her back on Emma and was now studying her reflection in the mirror which hung from the closet door.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Manny, you're Filipino."

"Whatever! Point is, I'm a minority!" Suddenly her brown eyes went hopeful. "Do you think we could bust Dustin on a racism charge? Like, take him to court or something?"

Emma shrugged. Now that she knew Dustin was nowhere on the premises, she was beginning to fell antsy – and hopeful as well. _He_ was still out there, fully intact and inexperienced, and she had a chance. She had a chance with _him_.

"I'm going to the opium den," Manny said suddenly, grabbing her car keys - from which dangled the local abortion clinic's "members plus" discount card. "Want anything?"

As a matter of fact, Emma did. But the thing she desired most could not be obtained until tomorrow – if, that was, it could be obtained at all. But hey, she was willing to try. It was what separated the women from the girls.

…

As luck would have it, she ran into him the following day. The rendezvous was completely happenstance, totally unscripted and thus having the potential to turn into a major disaster. Yet when Emma observed him coming out of the library then, she decided to wing it. Carpe deium and all that jazz. After all, when the goddesses dropped these types of opportunities on your lap, it was more or less your obligation to act upon them. And besides, who could have resisted?

The fragrance was so strong, the air so sweet, and the boy in question looked so fetching! Did he have any idea how enticing he was, standing there with his head bent down into his book, his sandy hair obscuring those gorgeous greens of his? Was he _trying_ to drive her crazy with his look of casual sheikness – a plain orange tee paired with faded Levis? Oh, oh, oh! With _that_ standing in her path, how could she look away?

With the force of a lioness pouncing upon a fresh carcass, so too did Emma pounce upon Dustin.

"Hi, Dustin!" she called, sprinting over to him as fast as her Spanx would allow – it was crucial that she close the distance between them and negate the possibility of a getaway. "Long time no see!"

Down went the book. Up went the eyes. Shades of dazzling emerald reflected in sunbursts.

"Oh. Hi, Emma. How's it hanging?"

_That's what I'd like to find out, _were the words that first came to mind, but rather than play it hard and fast and risk scaring away the prey, she decided to follow her own advice and take things slow. She tapped the book in his hands with one manicured nail. "What 'cha reading?"

He turned its cover toward her. "_Macbeth_. We're gonna put it on in two weeks." He smiled and hunched his broad shoulders in a self-effacing gesture. "My theater class, I mean."

Planting her feet, Emma snatched the book and fanned through its pages. "Pretty intense dialogue. You like Shakespeare?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He's cool, he's cool."

"So do I. I adore classic literature. And you'll be cast in the lead, no doubt."

That assumption brought a laugh from Dustin's corner. "Nah, I'm strictly a backstage kind of guy. Raising and lowering the curtain – that's me."

Emma returned the book. Their fingers met as it exchanged hands. Dustin's were large, yet oddly delicate, digits prone more toward painting than athletics.

"You know, Dustin, I used to be in theater myself. Would you like to come over to my house sometime and rehearse? My talents were strictly backstage material as well."

There. The bait had hit the water.

"Gee, I dunno." Dustin lowered his gaze and shifted his weight. Behind him, somebody knocked on the library doors and he moved sideways to allow them an exit. He seemed to take relief in the action, and Emma sensed she was in danger of losing her quarry.

"Or I could come to your house. Whatever's easier,"

Again, Dustin squirmed.

Here, Emma took a step forward. With nun-like sympathy she reached and took hold of his shoulder. The flesh beneath was hard and toned. "I know what happened between you and Manny last night."

Dustin blinked. Surprise was such a becoming expression on him. It softened his otherwise chiseled features considerably. "You do?"

"I do. And I want to apologize. I was disgusted when I found out what she'd planned, though I can't say I was exactly surprised. Girl's a slut."

The shoulder beneath her hand sagged. "Aw, come on. That's kinda harsh. She's a nice girl, maybe a little intense, but nice. I only hope I didn't hurt her feelings or anything. I … left in hurry." His voice brightened. "Maybe I should take her out for a pizza or something as an apology."

Emma's teeth clenched in fury. "Yeah. Maybe. But I just want to extend my most sincere apologies once again. It must be hard enough being the new kid without being hit on by the school whore."

A sigh. "Emma…"

She raised her eyes to his, which looked sad somehow. "Oh, I'm sorry. That wasn't an accurate description, was it? Whores _charge_ for their services; Manny'll do it for free."

"Emma."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Really. About everything. But I would like to get together tonight. I shall reveal to you how to properly light a stage. Let's say … your house at seven?"

A strong squeeze from her hand told him he had no other option.

But for a moment or two, there was silence. Then, not looking entirely happy about it, Justin reached his hand into his jeans' pocket and withdrew a slip of paper.

"Let me write down the address."

Game, set, and match.

…

Six hours later, Emma found herself standing upon the brink of a yawning precipice. Having utilized those traits which were so uniquely feminine, she had managed to match address to location and now stood facing the Morningale home. The house was nice, just the sort of place she had expected. Nestled away from both the highway and sidewalk in a grove of evergreens and sculpted bushes, it loomed large yet inviting in its own little circle of seclusion – a sturdy structure of the late Victorian period.

A miniature flagpole, the kind people often adorned with seasonal banners, had been stabbed into the ground beside the two-car garage and now sported a stylized "M". That, coupled with the gold numbering glistening across the wood façade, indicated that she had indeed hit upon the correct place. The numbers matched exactly those on the sheet of paper Dustin had given her, and that "M" could only mean "Morningale". Yes indeed, this was his house. And if those indicators weren't enough, the aroma wafting from the dwelling was certainly clue enough. It was thick and heavy, like the scent of a confectionary from one of those Easy Bake ovens conformist mothers usually bought for their daughters.

A nice house, it was. And the generous square of land it sat on was indicative of one more thing – that the Morningales were loaded.

Emma Morningale. Under ordinary circumstances, Emma would've never dreamed of enslaving herself in such a manner as to take the last name of her husband … but she had to admit, this time there was a certain jingle about it.

_I'm here, Dustin dear, _she thought as she rang the doorbell. _And don't worry, Emma will play it nice. I'll be good. You'll see. I'll be gentle as dew. _

A moment later, the door opened, revealing Dustin in the same clothes he'd worn to school. Emma herself had undergone a costume change of sorts, and now sported a pair of dark leggings matched with a sexy little purple top over a lacy cami. Display the goods, but don't advertise. That was her motto. A pink bow clip-on completed the virginal look.

"Hi," Dustin said, stepping aside. "Come on in."

"Thank you," Emma replied in kind, and entered inside.

The door was shut behind her.

_Now I'm in, _she thought crazily with manic glee. _Thou hast invited me in of thouest own free will. Thou hast opened the door unto me!_

"Sorry about the boxes."

Snapped back from her thoughts, Emma looked around and noted that, indeed, there were a few. Cardboard, wooden, crates and cartons – they were scattered everywhere, clogging the halls and stacked wall to wall. Bubble wrap spilled from the tops of some like disemboweled intestines.

"Hey, you're still moving in. It's to be expected." Flashing a brilliant smile graced upon her by Crest White Strips, she tickled Dustin's wrist with the tips of her fingers. A Livestrong bracelet rested there and she toyed with it flirtatiously whilst admiring the cause it stood for.

Hot, rich, and sensitive. Was there any better combination to have in a man?

"Hey, before we start with the technical theater stuff, why don't you take me on a tour?" Emma suggested.

Dustin's mouth extended into a smile. "There's really nothing much to see. Just a lot of boxes everywhere."

"I'd like to see the boxes, then," Emma countered.

Dustin shrugged. "Okay, whatever." He pointed to the right. "That there's the kitchen – nothing much in there but boxes of pots and pans. And…" He pointed to the left. "… over there's the living room. We don't even have our TV hooked up yet. I'll be glad when we get it working again. One more round of family game night, and I think I might just go crazy."

Ah, yes. His family. That was something else to consider. It just wouldn't do to have his parents walk in on them _during_.

"Say, where are your parents, anyway?"

"Oh, they're out buying groceries. It's just us."

Excellent.

Clearing his throat, Dustin jabbed a thumb backwards, indicating a stairway. And in so doing, the soft fabric of his shirt pulled taunt against the surface of a pectoral, against a protrusion that had to be a nipple. He was saying something, providing another entry into the stationary tour, but the specificities were lost against the raging surge of hormones presently bombarding Emma's senses. All was dark. All was lost. All except for that tight, bright orange tee and the yummy piece of compassionate man-meat it covered.

"Emma, you okay? You look sick."

Somehow she managed a nod. "Yes, I'm alright." _Deep breaths. Take it easy. Take it easy. _

But that chest. That body. Those other mysterious places that had yet to be discovered …

"Can I use your bathroom?"

Dustin nodded, looking more compassionate than ever. "Sure. Like I said, it's the first door to the right as you go up the stairs." He touched Emma's arm. "If you … need anything, just call, okay?"

Barely able to produce a sound of thanks, Emma shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her eyes twirled madly inside her head, searching ceaselessly for something that couldn't be found. Her heart pumped jarring rhythms as she ran her hands along the wallpapered corridor at the top of the stair. Her mouth had gone dry, her appendages numb. Her loins were not just on fire, but were undergoing nuclear fission.

Now her fingers graced against something cold and hard, and Emma pushed against it with the force of a madwoman, hoping beyond hope that it was the bathroom, and uncertain what to do about it if it wasn't.

Thankfully, however, it was. One glance at the porcelain john in the corner and Emma slammed the door behind her, already tugging at the waist of her leggings, fully intending to pleasure herself into oblivion.

But a brief moment of clarity brought pause to her fingers. Suppose she went ahead and satisfied that tingle. Doing so might diminish the thrill of the later conquest. It wouldn't be the same.

Emma smiled. Here was a woman with self-control. And it pleased her to think she was above falling victim to temptation's clutches.

With that settled, she smoothed out any wrinkles that may have appeared in her wardrobe and inspected the bathroom. Everything looked spic and span. The toilet lid was down and the machine itself shined spotless. A fat supply of toilet paper bulged from the wall-mount next to it, looking soft as cotton. Two fluffy towels of pastel colors hung on a rack outside the shower stall, and one quick peep inside revealed the absence of any sort of shampoo or gel.

How _did_ he keep his hair that shiny, then? Was it natural? Good hair was evidence of possessing good genes. Emma remembered having read that somewhere. Wikipedia, maybe.

Hmm. What else was there to do? Where else could she snoop? There was the toilet, the shower, the sink and the drawers on either side, the folding door that probably led to the dirty clothes hamper . . .

Well, goodness gracious. Duh. Here she was, in the bathroom, the most secret and forbidden of all rooms, and she had yet to investigate the one question that burned within the minds of all girls upon meeting a guy for the first time. The question that was above all questions – the question that seemed to have preceded the creation of the universe itself.

Boxers or briefs?

Laughing inwardly at her short-lived lapse of intelligence, Emma fell hard to her knees and raked aside the accordion door.

Jackpot. Inside was a whicker basket stuffed to the brim with the past week's clothes – some of which smelled of virgin. And oh, how alluring the aroma was, how sweet and sensual and downright pure.

Unable to help herself, Emma fell forward, her muscles slack with ecstasy. Her face collided with the laundry and she pawed like an animal through it. A rich variety of textures flew beneath her fingertips – coarse polyester, rough denim, soft cotton socks…

This last piece of wash she abducted from its brethren. Balanced in her hand, it looked so small, so fragile. Like a dainty white egg ready to hatch. This was Dustin's sock. It had actually been on his foot. The only question was: was his touch as soft? Was his embrace as gentle?

Again, the itch in her womanplace flared. Again, she payed it no mind. There would be satisfaction soon enough. But oh. But oh!

"Emma?" A knock at the door. "Emma, you okay? Everything all right?"

Emma opened her mouth to reply, only to find that in her momentary slip of strength she had partially stuffed the sock into her mouth, which made speech difficult. Removing it, she found the item to be thoroughly moist and she hazily recalled having suckled on it the way a newborn babe might drink from a breast.

_Practice, _she thought, throwing the wet sock back into the laundry closet.

Dustin was standing just outside the bathroom door and Emma nearly crashed into him as she exited. He looked worried. "Everything all right?"

"A-okay and then some," Emma replied with a lilt in her voice. Knowing the hour was so close gave her a pep in her step that she seldom found herself sporting. She felt euphoric, brilliant, light as a feather, giddy as a little schoolgirl enjoying her first recess! And it was all because of this beautiful hunk standing there beside her.

"Now let's continue with the tour." Moving past Dustin, Emma skipped down the hall and came to a stop outside the only other door present on the second floor. "This is your room, isn't it?" She tickled the closed wood. "Open up. I'd like to take a gander."

A shrug of the shoulders, and Dustin moved past her, opening the door with a mere push of the hand. It swung open effortlessly.

Like the rest of the house, the lair of the god was more or less empty – most of its furnishings having yet to be unpacked from the rim of boxes which lined the walls. The space looked to be fairly large, but such a perception might have had something to do with the empty floor and bare walls. Yet even fully decorated, Emma quickly surmised it would be larger still than the cramped closet-sized rat hole she currently called a room.

A thorn of jealously pierced her flesh when she thought about that. Who was this family to be new in town and have it so good so quickly? Where was the justice in that? What made _them_ so special? What had _they_ done to earn themselves so fine a piece of pie? But as jealously was unbecoming to a confident woman, Emma immediately checked herself, stepping on the emotion just as easily as she would step on one of the cockroaches that sometimes crawled across her bedroom floor.

The room was not totally bare, however. Resting beneath the slanted ceiling, positioned between two narrow windows, sat the bed. Its sheets were in disarray and pilled in clumps near the bottom, which indicated to Emma that no matter how sensitive and charming Dustin appeared to be, he still was not a man given to making his bed every morning. The frame of it was of a nondescript style, which matched perfectly with the accompanying nightstand.

And oh! What was this? There was a book on that nightstand, placed in a position of honor next to the bed and beneath a small lamp. A thick one, too. One with golden edging along the pages and a bookmark skewered halfway through. Emma took note of this and nodded in approval. So Dustin read. So few people did nowadays. It was becoming a lost method of leisure and it pleased Emma greatly to know Dustin might prefer this to Nintendo or Playstation. What author was he reading now, though? Naomi Wolf? The Greek poetess Sappho? Or tried and true Wollstonecraft?

Moving closer to the nightstand, Emma tried to see.

Then gagged in revulsion.

The Bible. The book lying next to his bed was the Bible.

Christians. M'eh.

Well, maybe he was studying it. Reading it for a report. Yes, that had to be the explanation for its presence there on that table. Surely he didn't … believe.

Her inquiry into Dustin's reading material having proved disheartening, Emma moved to one of the windows instead. The view they offered was superb. A grand vista lay beyond the glass, framed by a rolling sheet of orange twilight, below which sat the Toronto skyline, roosting above the treetops. From this distance, the city looked as lifeless as a child's building blocks.

"Great view, huh? I could stare out that window for days."

Emma turned. Dustin had taken a seat on the edge of his bed. Beams of setting sunlight washing across his face made it appear as though his features had been refined from gold.

He slapped his knees. "So. Tell me all you know about the mysteries of the theater. I am your student. I am grasshopper."

Emma took a step forward, suddenly feeling very calm. "They'll be plenty of time for talking later," she whispered.

She could feel the heat of the fading day on her back, on her skin. She could feel its warmth sinking into her pores. Giving her courage.

She began to walk toward Dustin. She took it slow, first lifting the heel of one foot and balancing on the other before bringing it down again. Her steps were slow and painstakingly methodical – the footing of someone walking through a minefield. Her hips moved with each forward thrust. Her belly sank in and out with each breath she hardly dared take. The moment was so fragile. The blinking of an eye seemed enough to bring it to ruin.

Now within arm's reach of Dustin, Emma knelt at his knee like a pilgrim venerating some sacred relic. Again moving with the measured grace of a ballet dancer, she placed her hands atop his knees. He stiffened, but did not verbalize any discomfort. Which Emma took as his permission to continue.

Now she slid her hands upward along the insides of his thighs, gently pushing his legs into a V. The material of his jeans made a scratching sound beneath her nails. Inching ever onward, her fingers found the seam of his zipper. She fondled it briefly then moved her hand to his crotch. Then squeezed. Hard.

It was then that Dustin jerked backward. One leg flew up in a blur and struck Emma in the shoulder. The other came crashing inward, jabbing the would-be seductress in the rib area. Both were painful blows, but Emma ignored them as she had so much else this evening. She had actually touched the jewels, and by the feel of things, Dustin was sporting some pretty impressive karats.

So she tried again. She darted her hand outward once more, but her aim proved sloppy and instead of a couple of cojones, she ended up with only a handful of shirt. All the same, in the instant his shirt was jerked tight, she saw a flash of white waistband above his jeans and knew it had to be his underwear. This proved to be enough motivation for her to try again, and again she made a desperate grab.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA! What are you _doing_ down there?"

Emma froze. She had gotten excited and violated her one and only rule – which was to take it slow.

"I'm sorry." She lowered her hands. "Forgive me. I know how new this all is to you. But I'll be gentle. So very gentle." She raised her hands again. Placed them on his knees. Pushed them further apart. "You don't have to worry. I'll take it easy. And you know what, you won't even have to lift a finger. It'll be good. So very good. For you and me, Dustin. We're all sexual beings here."

Having regained control of herself, she began to itsy-bitsy-spider herself back to where the action was to take place.

"Hey, cut it out!"

Almost there.

"Hey, stop it!"

Only a little ways …

"Seriously, stop it!"

Ah. There it was. Tickle, tickle, tickle.

_"STOP!" _

Strong hands clamped around her shoulders like forceps. Panicked fingers borrowed deep into her flesh. The feeling was agony, but Emma - now desperate to touch, to see, to do whatever she could – shot forward again. This time her hands, both of them, landed square on target and she clawed like a puma at Dustin's loins.

There! The zipper! And up – up – up – the snap which first had to be undone! But there was the pushing, and the pressing fingers and the distant voice ordering her, _screaming_ at her to stop but she could not _would_ not. He would like it if only he gave her a chance. If only he allowed her to give him a sneak preview.

YES! The snap. But no, not a snap at all, but a button. Fiddling with it would only waste time. Break it, then! Tear it off! With teeth, if need be! Just do it! Do it! NOW!

_Riiiiiip_ went the button as it was seared from its thread.

_Flex _went Dustin's arms as she threw Emma to the ground.

She landed painfully and squarely on her tailbone. Exquisite rods of white-hot agony seared through her body. Her neck flew backward as a silent scream fought for birth in her throat. Her eyes bulged. Her hands spasmed chaotically, lacerating the wooden floor of the room in a vain attempt to pry the planks from their moorings.

Later, long after her abrupt departure from the scene, Dustin would discover that his room bore the brunt of her legacy in the form of long, gray scratch marks etched deep into the wood paneling beneath and around his bed.

_"Masher!"_ Emma screamed. Now that she had gotten her second wind, she had no intention of wasting it. _"Abuser!"_

Dustin only stared back, slack-jawed. One of his hands had moved to the space between his legs as if for protection. The other was raised slightly, ready for a karate chop should the girl at his feet try for a fourth time.

"I should've known!" Emma screeched. Bits of spittle flew from her mouth. "Manny _warned_ me about you, but I didn't listen! I thought you were _different_, Dustin! I thought you were _good_!" She sniffled and hastily ran a hand across her chin to wipe away the drool that had gathered there. "BUT YOU'RE JUST LIKE ANY OTHER PIG MAN I'VE EVER RUN ACROSS!"

Dustin, still socked beyond all expression, gave no statement.

Emma's mouth stiffened. "I know what you expected. You wanted me to play the part of the dainty little housewife, isn't that right? You wanted me to _beg _for it, didn't you?" She stood. Her back went straight with dignity. Her eyes, proud with her own special brand of feminism, regarded Dustin with all the mercy a goddess might favor upon a cockroach.

"Well, I'm not going to beg," she informed. "I am Emma Nelson, my mother's daughter, and we don't subjugate ourselves to _any_ man's control!"

Meaning to depart (and leave Dustin battered and broken in the process), she took a sideways step to the left – but halted upon taking another gander into Dustin's dreamy greens.

_I am an Amazon, _Emma reminded herself. _I am woman, hear me roar. I am woman, bar the door. _

But Dustin …

_Strength, Emma. Don't go ruining your exit now._

But it was hopeless. With Dustin sitting there, it was hopeless – and Emma once again found herself on the floor at his feet.

"Okay, you want me to beg? I'll beg. Please! _Please_, I'll do anything! You want me to call you Daddy? You got it! You want me to bring you breakfast in bed? I'll do it! Just please - - for the love of mother earth - - let me at least … touch it."

And though a part of her knew it would only end in another disappointment, she reached for the final time.

_"Emma, please!"_

And again Dustin swatted her hand away.

A single tear rolled down Emma's cheek in a sparkling comma. She rose, nodded, and said: "I see. I'm sorry I bothered you, then, and I apologize for any discomfort I may have caused you."

Then she flung herself out the window.

The glass in the frame shattered outward in a series of melodic twinkling sounds, and for the briefest moment they formed a cocoon of sorts around her lithe form before disintegrating into random patterns.

She went headfirst and thumbed through the space in Dustin's bedroom wall like a trained lion jumping through a hoop of fire.

First her head, then her shoulders, then her arms, hips, and legs. Then she was gone – the only evidence of what had just happened being the broken window itself and the new air which circulated from outside.

_**"EMMA!"**_

To his credit, Dustin reacted immediately. He allowed himself no time to think. He only moved.

Reaching the window, he clasped the sill with trembling hands and looked down, very afraid of what he might find.

But the yard below was empty. Emma (or rather, her corpse) was nowhere to be found.

The self-styled Amazon was gone.


End file.
